Loving Lord Ash by Sally Mackenzie

you wanted. . . .” She looked down again and whispered to his chest, “I would have done whatever it was. You just had to tell me.”
    Oh, damn. His cock jumped up, ready to tell her exactly what it wanted. He moved his hips back slightly. Much as he’d like to hope otherwise, this was not the time for such activities.
    Perhaps tonight he could ask her to—
    No. No matter what Jess had been to other men, she was his wife. He could not use her as a light-skirt.
    “Come with me to London, Jess. Please? You were right. We should give ourselves some time together. We were friends once. Perhaps we can be friends again.” And lovers. His cock was rather insistent about that. “Surely it would be better for both of us if we can find a way to make our marriage work.”
    She scowled at him. “I will not be insulted again. If I agree to come with you, you must swear you won’t call me a wh-whore.”
    Hearing her say that ugly word tore at his gut. He gripped her shoulders a little more tightly. He didn’t know what she was, but he was willing to grant that she wasn’t that.
    “I promise.” He owed it to her to be honest. “But I can’t promise I won’t lose my temper again.”
    She frowned. “You didn’t used to have a temper.” She smiled a little. “Except for the time you and Percy got into that fight over the snow fort.”
    “Oh, I got angry all right. I just tried not to show it.” A duke should always be in command of himself, and one day he would be duke. But no one had ever made him as angry as Jess had when he’d seen her with Percy and then with the naked footman. Usually when he was angry, he felt cold, but with Jess—Zeus! With her he’d felt a hot, stomach-churning fury.
    That damn footman was lucky he was still breathing.
    “So will you come, Jess? I’m sure I won’t be so, er, difficult once we have better accommodations.” And surely once he wasn’t so tired, he wouldn’t have to keep fighting the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her—and then take her back to that dreadful, sagging mattress and do what he hadn’t done with her last night.
    She hesitated, and then nodded. “Very well.”
    His arms wanted to pull her close, but he forced himself to release her and step back. He shouldn’t push his luck. And he wasn’t completely certain this was luck; he just wasn’t ready any longer to cut off all hope of salvaging their marriage. “I’d better get dressed.”
    “Yes.” She’d tilted her head and was studying him, especially his arms and chest. Was there lust in her eyes, perhaps?
    No, they were narrowed in her painterly expression.
    “Is there a studio in your London house?”
    He pulled on his breeches. “Yes, or at least there was. I haven’t used it for years—I haven’t been to London for years—but I can’t imagine my parents would have done away with it. It’s up near the old schoolroom.” Of course, once Mama finally had a grandchild, the studio might get sacrificed.
    “Will you pose for me?” She flushed.
    Now he felt as if he were flushing, and of course it made him think of that damn footman. The words were out before he could stop himself. “Naked?”
    She nodded. “And clothed. We could do clothed first, if you prefer, but I should like to . . . that is, you really do have classical proportions. Er, or at least I think you do. I don’t know for certain, of course, since I haven’t actually seen”—she gestured toward his groin—“everything.”
    He wanted to show her everything, but it was too soon for that.
    He smiled as he sat down to pull on his stockings and boots. She was nervous. “Very well, if you’ll pose for me.” He looked up. “Naked.”
    Her eyebrows shot up. “You draw buildings.”
    He certainly preferred drawing buildings. Their straight lines and angles were very satisfying. But he drew other things, too, though perhaps not so much recently. “I used to draw figures. I believe I was drawing a heron when I first met